


Dreams

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Dreams, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the <i>sex</i> dreams that Jimmy is so worried about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LinkWorshiper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkWorshiper/gifts).



The… the _sex_ dreams… they weren't the ones that worried Jimmy so. The ones he woke from sweaty, ashamed and damp - or, worse still, sweaty and desperate and _hard_. The ones in which a familiar, dark-haired figure claimed Jimmy's mouth; undressed him leisurely; kissed a trail down his neck and lower, lower, _lower_ ; skated over his cheek or his nipples with a damaged palm (and oh, how would that _feel_? Jimmy had seen it, but he had never _touched_ it); pushed inside him in the most intimate of ways - or lowered down onto Jimmy. The ones which, if he hadn't already come in his sleep, made it impossible not to shove a desperate hand into his pyjama trousers and touch himself roughly until pleasure overwhelmed him, his other hand squeezed over his mouth.

No. Those weren't the dreams that worried Jimmy. Those, he could rationalise: it had been a long time since he had been with a woman; it was natural to dream about one's best friend when one spent such a large proportion of the day with them (with _him_ ); and they were _dreams_ , anyway - Jimmy couldn't control them.

The dreams that scared Jimmy were the _others_. The _ordinary_ ones. The ones where he spent the entire night having daft conversations with an imaginary version of the man he spoke to the entire day. The ones where he continued a late-night card game into an early-morning dream game. The ones where they weren't at Downton at all, but somewhere _else_ , somewhere new and exciting where nobody cared what they got up to behind closed doors.

The ones he woke up from unsure what had been real and what had been a somnolent vision.

Sometimes he touched himself after these, too. He'd take his time after _those_ dreams. His languorous fingers could drag out his rapture for what felt like eons. And yet, somehow, it was never quite satisfying, because once it was over he rolled onto his side and he was alone. He was alone. He never felt quite as isolated as he did after dreaming of being in love, and waking to find himself in an empty bed.

That was why he was afraid.

It was easy to ignore the _sex_ dreams. Sex was nothing, not really. Not to Jimmy. Well - it was fun. It passed the time. It felt good, for an evening. And yet it was, fundamentally, an unemotional affair. At least, it always had been before. Before _what_ was a question he rarely allowed himself to consider, and certainly never more than glanced at before turning away.

Until one night he started awake from kissing a dream and thought, 'Before _Thomas_ '. He lay in bed in the dark and whispered it aloud to the velvet night; "Before _Thomas_." His hand crept into his pyjama trousers; "Before _Thomas_ ," he whispered again, finally permitting himself to acknowledge just _whose_ apparition he had been loving and making love with for months. "Thomas. Thomas…"

Perhaps it should have been easy after that, now that Jimmy knew what (who) he wanted. But Jimmy wasn't brave like Thomas was, and he was afraid of being found out. He was afraid of being sent to prison. But perhaps most of all, he was afraid of being rejected. He couldn't be sure that Thomas still wanted _him_.

It was seven weeks and four days until he had the courage to say anything.

He had been tired that evening, so went to bed early, only to toss and turn restlessly before finding himself wide awake barely an hour after he had gone up.

Somehow, this felt like the moment.

The bedclothes whispered in the air as he flipped them back; his bare toes curled on the cold floor. _Pad pad pad_ across the room, through the door, down the chilly corridor; he hadn't even thought to add shoes or a dressing gown to his nightly ensemble. There was a slice of amber light creeping out under Thomas's door, so Jimmy slipped inside without knocking. Thomas looked up from the book he was reading in bed, surprise shading his face.

Jimmy didn't know what to say.

He covered the distance between them and climbed up onto the bed next to Thomas, who watched him with a startled expression without saying a word. Jimmy just sat there, breathing in his closeness for a while.

Clearing his throat, Thomas seemed about to say something, but he had left it rather too late to ask what was going on. He went back to his reading instead, deepening the silence, until Jimmy took the book off him with curious hands that found an edge of torn flesh as they brushed past Thomas's.

His friend's face was a question mark that Jimmy didn't know how to answer, so he dipped his head, pretended to read the title of the book he could barely see for the haze of vague arousal and clinging fantasy.

"Do you want to travel?" Jimmy asked at last, his voice lower and huskier than he had expected.

"Maybe." A shrug lifted one shoulder, like it wasn't something Thomas had often, or seriously, considered. "Wouldn't mind going somewhere that rains a bit less than 360 days a year."

Jimmy nodded, regarding Thomas sombrely. He could feel the frown pinching between his eyebrows. It was all he wanted, suddenly, to give Thomas some sunlight, instead of the perpetual gloom they lived in as servants.

"Why?" Thomas asked gently. He was looking at Jimmy as though Jimmy held the secret to both their salvations in his breast.

It was how he had _always_ looked at Jimmy, Jimmy realised then. It had never changed. The tenderness in Thomas's eyes - it had never waned, only increased, though swirling in ever more complex patterns as time drew the two of them closer together. It was this thought that gave Jimmy the nerve to say: "Because I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hide that I'm in love with you, and we could do with a back-up plan."

Thomas's breath shook as it left his lips. The eddying currents in his eyes were enhanced by finally seeing their reflection in Jimmy's. He shifted, and one damaged palm made its trembling way to cup Jimmy's cheek. "I'd cross the world," he said, fingertips gentling over Jimmy's ear; "If it's with you."

Jimmy was the one to lean in and initiate their first true kiss, and he soon learned that not even the best of his fantasies could match up to the magnificent reality that was Thomas.

 


End file.
